Shots in the Dark
by alifestylechoice
Summary: Collection of Naruto one-shots of varying genres, pairings, and ratings, some done for the fic request meme at my LJ. Each detailed at the beginning of the fic. Pairings currently include: HinaSaku, YamaSasu, InoAsuma
1. We Are Still Standing HinaSaku

**Title:** We Are Still Standing**  
Author:** alifestylechoice   
**Fandom:** Naruto (HinaSaku)   
**Rating:** PG-13 (Angst, ladylovin')  
**Words:** 805  
**Summary:** Hyuuga Hinata is not a weak woman. She isn't falling apart; just a little broken.

_A/N: For omizu, part of the Fic Request Meme on my LJ. It's not porny, but you know, that abduction fic is coming up soon... :) This was the first idea that came to mind, so I kinda just went with it. I hope you like, honey!_

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**We Are Still Standing**_  
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"You're home early," Sakura notes, looking up from her book.

Hinata walks in quietly through the door, shoulders slumped a little more than usual. Her hair is pulled back, but a few strands hang in her face, concealing its entirety from Sakura's vision. She closes the door with barely a sound and stands still, her forehead against its cold, wooden surface.

Sakura snaps to attention and her book is all but forgotten as she quickly walks over to where Hinata stands against the door. "Hinata?" she begins. Her heart palpitates irregularly.

"We lost three shinobi today," Hinata whispers into the doorway. "_I_ lost three shinobi."

She sniffles twice, but tissues already appear in her hand, Sakura offering them gently. Hinata feels a familiar hand across her shoulder, tracing slow circles. Her head remains downturned.

"Chuunin," Hinata continues. "First mission. They were ambushed. Their squad leader barely made it back alive with all of them." She presses the tissue to her eyes.

"I see," says Sakura. She remembers this feeling in this moment. "Who is looking over the hospital right now?"

"Shizune," Hinata replies, face still in her hands. "She sent me home."

"I see," Sakura repeats, her hands trailing softly to the sides of Hinata's face, cupping her reddened cheeks in her hands. She tilts Hinata's chin up and sees her face for the first time since she has entered their bedroom. In her tired eyes, she sees fatigue, guilt, and a glimmer of doubt.

Yet, Hyuuga Hinata is not a weak woman. She isn't falling apart; just a little broken.

"Sakura, I—"

"Hinata, you did everything you could to help them?" Sakura says, wiping the last tear away with her thumb.

Hinata nodded. "But—"

"You're the best medic I know. Your decisions are sound, and you're quick to react. I would trust you with my life." She places a small kiss to the corner of her mouth, then presses their foreheads together. Hinata's arms hang at her sides, her eyes closed.

"You're still here, here with me. You're still standing." She clasps their hands together. Hinata's hands are cold and shake slightly.

"It hurts, still," Hinata says quietly. Her breath begins to even out, while her chest continues to sting.

"I know," Sakura says. She carefully unties Hinata's hair, the long black strands lacing through her fingers like ribbons. "We both know it will. For awhile."

Hinata nods, and lifts her arms, allowing Sakura to peel the scrubs from her body. Sakura pushes lightly against her hips, and Hinata turns to face the doorway. Shivering, the cold of the air shoots through her body.

"But, today is today. Tomorrow's waiting for you." She wraps her arms around Hinata's waist, and feels her push back into her chest, aching for warmth. Sakura tugs at the drawstring of Hinata's pants, untying the knot that makes them fall to the floor next to its matching top.

Hinata looks over her shoulder and their eyes meet. Sakura's smile is forgiving and she squeezes her hand tight, wordlessly leading Hinata into the bathroom.

After Sakura draws a bath, and they are entangled in each other's arms, bubbles tickling their shoulders and the smell of honey drifting in the air, Hinata speaks.

"I don't want to go back tomorrow," she says into the crook of Sakura's neck.

"You don't have to," Sakura assures her. Her hand trails along the side of her girlfriend's body, along the curve of her breast.

"They'll complain that the head of the hospital is playing favorites."

"Let them complain all they want. I'll review your case log tomorrow, just like any other medic at my hospital." She shifts slightly, the water's surface rippling, sliding her knee between Hinata's legs. "Who are they going to complain to, anyway?"

"The Hokage?"

"Pfft. Kakashi-sensei has played favorites his whole life. He's got nothing on me."

They are silent for a few, tender moments, the only sounds being the movement of the bath water and small, contented sighs.

"Take tomorrow off, too?" Hinata asks softly.

Sakura sighs with a smile. "My chakra's back to full strength. I have to go back."

Hinata pauses, picks up a strand of pink hair and arranges it perfectly along the slopes of her body. "Take tomorrow off?" she repeats.

Sakura purses her lips and makes a face. She looks down to Hinata and kisses her on the forehead. "Well, that mission _was_ pretty taxing. And, if Shizune's there, I guess one more day wouldn't hurt—"

She is cut off with a light kiss, and smiles into its completion. As they pull apart, she feels Hinata's eyelashes dust her cheek. They regard each other with a sense of patience and knowing. Some things in life are hard on the heart, while other things, like this moment, right now, are indescribably easy.

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_-end-_


	2. Ghost YamaSasu

**Title:** Ghost**  
Author:** alifestylechoice   
**Fandom:** Naruto (YamaSasu, Kakashi)   
**Rating:** R (Angstin', Sexin'.)  
**Words:** 514  
**Summary:** They search desperately for a part of _him_—a blink of a memory, the sound of a forgotten dream.

_A/N_:_ For bluerising, part of the Fic Request Meme on my LJ. This was quite the challenge, lady. I hope you enjoy._

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**Ghost**_  
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It is dark and his hand wraps around Sasuke's throat, pinning him to the ground. There is no protest as blades of grass cut into his back through the fabric of his clothes, no protest as he feels his breath coming up short and his pants tugged roughly from his hips. The moon is full, bright, and blinds him; he squints to see Yamato's silhouette hovering above.

It is quiet, not even a cricket's song, and the sound of their breathing cuts into the night with razor blade sharpness, sticking to the inside of their ribs and eardrums. Sasuke's fingers dig into Yamato's jaw line, into his collarbone, pulling him down and pushing him away. He doesn't want to see Yamato's eyes; the illusion could be broken.

What he wants is someone he can't have, but he settles for something vaguely familiar.

Yamato drags the palm of his hand across Sasuke's cock, holds him in place by the neck. The leftover dew on the grass seeps through his pants and sends hot chills through his legs, straight to his crotch. Sasuke hisses into the air; it makes Yamato hard in an instant, gripping the boy's throat tighter, tighter still, pulling at the delicate hairs at the nape of his neck. Sasuke doesn't cry out, and never has, for anyone—Yamato knows this. He has only cried out for one other, and it's the one he thinks about when he closes his eyes.

What he wants is someone he can't have, but he settles for something close enough.

Their sex is violent and urgent, hands clawing and feet digging into the earth. It smells like sweat and dirt, these two substances clinging to their hair, their skin. They search desperately for a part of _him_—a blink of a memory, the sound of a forgotten dream. They have evolved from prey to predatory, gnashing their teeth against each other, both not wanting to back down as they have done before. They are each in a separate once upon a time, with the same ghost.

Sasuke is suddenly on his stomach, face inches from the ground. He is pulled from his hips, shoulders dragging through the dirt, shirt bunched around his neck. His muscles contract from the cold that spikes through his naked back and thighs. He feels an invasive finger enter him roughly, but he pushes back, feels himself opening up, forcing himself to relax, relax. There has never been time to go slow.

Yamato fingers are like teeth into Sasuke's hips, and he and pushes into him, neglecting tenderness and affection that they have never known. He inhales deeply, a small pause of relief before thrusting, hard, sweat dripping down the side of his face onto Sasuke's back. He is hunched over, his knees digging into the ground. His heart pounds in his ears, their hips colliding in an erratic rhythm they have memorized while looking into mismatched eyes.

When they come, it is release and agony, and they both see Kakashi in their squeezed shut minds, struggling to forget his lessons of submission and violation.

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_-end-_


	3. I Need You, Just This Way

**Title:** I Need You, Just This Way  
**Author:** alifestylechoice  
**Fandom:** Naruto (Ino/Asuma)  
**Rating:** PG-13 (A little dark, a little sexual, nothing overt)  
**Words:** 1,358  
**Summary: **He could stop this. He most certainly could.

_A/N: I've been planning on writing this for awhile, and had to get it out of my system. It comes from a prompt on the citrus_taste lime chart "Jezebel," which then lead me to the song of the same name by Depeche Mode that heavily influenced the rest of this fic to be written. _

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**I Need You, Just This Way**

_They call you Jezebel  
Whenever we walk in  
You're going straight to hell  
For wanton acts of sin, they say  
And that I'll have to pay  
But I need you  
Just this way_

_They call you Jezebel_  
_For what you like to wear_  
_You're morally unwell_  
_They say you'll never care for me_  
_But what they fail to see_  
_Is that your games are the key_

On a mission in Grass, Ino asked him for advice about boys.

"Don't know if I can help," Asuma said in jest, but with caution. This was new territory, and dangerous territory, ever since her hips began to lead her stride and her chest bindings took her longer than ever before to finish. "I don't bark up that tree," he said with a finality she didn't pick up on.

She scoffed, and it echoed in the empty air. She stepped out of the shadows and quickly sat down beside him, laying out her bedroll. Shikamaru and Chouji were fast asleep; the former because his turn for watch was up next, and the latter because sleep was a rarity when Ino was your teammate and had opinions about..everything.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said matter-of-factly. She scooted her bedroll closer. The reflection of the moon against the river water below them made the side of her face appear cool and distant, only her features were round and warm. _Young._ Eyes were big.

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes and resting his elbows on his knees. "You're going to regret staying up during someone else's watch."

She rolled her eyes, and removed her legs from her bedroll. His eyes lingered momentarily on the curve of her thigh.

"I don't need a speech, I just need an opinion on a couple things," she insisted. Her hair fell over her shoulder, a kink in her otherwise perfectly straight mane from the ponytail holder she usually wore. "You never really sleep unless it's Shikamaru's watch, anyway."

Asuma sighed; her observations were keener than ever and guilt crept into his conscience like a fire consuming air. Ino was a manipulator of many things, and he had found himself painted in a corner on more than one occasion. Her tongue had been quick since the day their team formed. "Summarize. You need your rest for tomorrow."

Satisfied, she cocked her head to the side and lowered her voice to a whisper, low, but clear as the stars in the cloudless sky above them. "How long have you known Kurenai-sensei?"

Memories of a small girl with unruly brown hair and a quiet intensity flipped quickly through his mind like a pack of cards, and he chuckled softly. "Longer than you've been alive, girl."

"Do you love her?" Ino asked, hardly skipping a beat; he assumed she had memorized all the notes long ago.

"I think that's something between she and I," he said. He knew the route of this line of questioning, and a part of him hoped it would end right then and there. The more sensible-and cynical-part of him knew that Ino was far too clever to abandon a game she knew she could win.

"She's really beautiful. Kurenai-sensei." Ino's gaze dropped to the water below. "I guess you must think so, obviously."

Before he can answer, she barreled ahead, going in a straight line. She was fussy about certain things, but, as he had learned over the years, she could get to the point when it was in her interests. It was becoming clear to him that he was, in fact, one of these interests, and his mind found excuses to let her speak her mind, maybe just this once.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" she asked, and the weight of her stare was upon him, pressing down on his shoulders.

He swallowed. "I think you'll make a boy your age happy."

She laughed softly, like she was wise beyond her years, which she might have been, now that he really thought about it, and her, and what they had all been through together. Her gaze settled on a collection of rocks by the river's edge, but he feels her eyes on him, behind him. All around him.

"Asuma-sensei, I'm sure you've heard that I'm fully capable of making boys...happy."

Her words were tinted with innocence, but coated in dark colors. Asuma shook his head. "Maybe you shouldn't concern yourself with what people are saying about you."

For a moment, he thought he saw a speck of something else in her eyes, a look that was simultaneously full of relief and pain. Like when she was twelve, and understood her potential. But, that speck quickly retreated from view, replaced by a product of her diligence and training. She tossed her bangs out of her face. "And people call _me_ the gossip," she joked.

Asuma shook his head before he knew what he was doing. "I don't think you are," he said, and his eyes fell on one strand of hair that didn't quite make it behind her ear.

"I know," she said. She nodded towards her sleeping team members. "They know. You know. People love to talk about other people."

He resisted all urges to push that one piece of hair behind her ear. "You just like to talk about yourself," he said, a crooked smile around his cigarette.

She returned the smile and slaps him on the arm playfully. Her hand lingered before dropping to the ground. "I hear that people talk about me often," she said, absent of narcissism. Her gaze flickered back to his, catching him off guard-not for the first time that night. "What do they say?"

The playful mood was dipped in darkness, and he chose his words with care. "People start stories because their lives aren't interesting enough for them to tend to."

She nodded. "So, do you think it could be jealousy?"

He pressed his lips together, blood pumping through his veins at abnormal rates. "Could be," he said with as little inflection as he could muster under the pressure of her scrutiny.

"Well," she said, using her finger to subtly draw circles on the exposed skin of her thigh. "I suppose people want what they can't have." The games were coming to a close and her fingers wrapped slowly around his wrist. Her touch was surprisingly tender, and he immediately felt goosebumps rise on both his forearms.

He could pull away. He could.

Instead, a small curse surfaced from the back of his throat, in protest. His pants were a little too tight, and he felt a bead of sweat drip down the side of his face. They had both flirted with death before, and maybe that was why she was so damn comfortable asking these questions, posing these hypotheticals, making him _think_ and _feel_ and itch that scratch.

Her body was above his now, tangled on top but barely touching him save for her lips on the shell of his ear, speaking to him. "In battle, some people abandon everything they love and flee. They're selfish. They only think about themselves."

He stopped breathing altogether as she removed the cigarette butt from his mouth, flicking it to the side. The smell of tobacco and the smell of _her_ was intoxicating.

"I'm not asking for you to leave everything you know. But, I'm offering something to you. As my team member. My ally."

He can feel her smile against his neck. "You've taught me so much, Asuma-sensei."

Tension hung in the air like a bow and arrow poised to strike. He could stop this. He most certainly could.

"Ino," he choked, fumbling over speech. He breathed in shakily. "Please. _Please_."

He didn't know if he was asking for more, or begging for her to stop. She decided for him, as she leaned in, her lips parting.

He didn't stop her. He hardly tried.

_They call you Jezebel  
Whenever men walk by  
They say that they can tell  
The longing in your eyes is real  
And how you really feel  
But they can't see your appeal_

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_-end-_

_Thank you for reading-please review if you have the time!_


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